24 Hours: A Day In the Life of Designer Nicky Haslam

Slide 1 Of 24 Hours: A Day In the Life of Designer
Nicky Haslam

Photographs by Dominic Blackmore
Written by Jennifer Wilson
Produced by Jenny Bradley

Designer Nicky Haslam strolls into his mod white studio on London’s Pavilion Road, a converted mews street where horses were once kept behind a grand Victorian apartment block. It’s 9 a.m., and the dapper, silver-haired design icon is early. Perhaps it was a mellow night on the global social scene he’s rocked for decades—from Studio 54 in the ’70s to this year’s Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.

Born the third son of a British diplomat and a goddaughter of Queen Victoria, maybe the designer within him was born when Nicky was bed-bound as a child with polio, and a dollhouse with interchangeable interiors was among his favorite diversions. He began appointing rooms and parties for famous clients such as Natalie Wood in the 1960s. Now, his roster includes rockers Mick Jagger and Rod Stewart, as well as the Prince of Wales.

“We have the joy of transatlantic vantages. As a Canadian, I bring a fresh North American take. Nicky gives me a bolder understanding of that British thing we all envy,” she says, holding up a piece of glazed fabric. “Like mastering chintz, for example. Secretly, we’re showing off to each other, and that really brings out the best of both of us.”

A stone’s throw from the NH Design studio, this tiny independent bookseller is like a scene from Dickens, with proper pane windows streaming amber light. Nicky declares it London’s best for design titles. Here, says Nicky, “You can dream of a book life.” The shop, of course, carries his recent memoir.

“This is the best fabric house, I should think, in the world,” Nicky muses, scanning heavy folds on wide shelves. “You can feel the fabric and lift it and take it outside where you can see it by daylight.” Colette announces: “The future home of our own NH fabric collection!”

Just steps down the road at David Saxby’s, shelves tower with trilbies, top hats, and flat caps. Ascots bedeck the walls. Racks bulge with tweeds and Edwardian wear. “I sometimes yearn not to wear jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets,” says Nicky, auditioning cream-colored jodhpurs. “It’s quite fun to come in and rummage around.”

The pair circles back toward the Nicholas Haslam retail shop (run by Paolo Moschino). They dine at eco-royal Lady Bamford’s cafe, her produce and proteins like art against white marble and pale wood surroundings.

Just opposite, the two can barely move in the petite packed emporium of 18th-century French objets d’art. “They have the most amazing antique stock,” says Nicky. “Lamps, hanging lights, chandeliers, marble statues, fireplaces. This is a very romantic shop.”

Nicky orders a dirty gin martini (Colette, pink champagne) at the Beauford Bar, where he performs a twice-yearly cabaret—songs from favorites like Cole Porter, Rodgers and Hammerstein, and Irving Berlin. “Somehow, you walk a little taller here,” says Colette. “It’s a jewel box. One of the best places in the city to make you look beautiful.”

In a quiet lull, Colette pulls out the sketchbook, and she and Nicky return to what they do best—helping the rest of the world look beautiful.